


Fainting Psychics and Pessimistic Demonologists

by LittleLesbian



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: It won't be very creepy because I'm a wimp, M/M, Slow Build, Talk of demons, ghost hunters au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-08-10 01:39:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7825198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLesbian/pseuds/LittleLesbian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t that Jack Zimmermann, founder of the paranormal investigation show Ghost Whisperers, didn’t believe in psychic mediums. He just finds most of them to be ridiculous fabricating side show attention whores. So when Shitty tells him that the newest member of their team, Eric Bittle, is a psychic he’s skeptical at best. At worst, he’s pissed as hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

            It wasn’t that Jack Zimmermann didn’t believe in psychic mediums. He’s a ghost hunter for god’s sakes; his entire career is built on finding and interacting with spirits. The idea that some people can find and interact with them easier than others isn’t exactly farfetched. He just finds most of them to be ridiculous fabricating side show attention whores. So when Shitty tells him that the newest member of their team, Eric Bittle, is a psychic he’s skeptical at best. At worst, he’s pissed as hell.

            “C’mon bros! It’d be totally fuckin rad to have someone who can actually fuckin see the spirits when we can’t on the show. Even our dick producers agree with me, and this guy seems swasome.” Shitty had enthused, gesticulating wildly as they waited in the equipment room for the rest of the team to show up.

            Jack just grunted and went back to his laptop, trying to research new locations while they waited. Lardo said nothing from her seat next to him, cataloging the new gear that had just arrived, but Jack knew she was on Shitty’s side in this if her pointed look was any indication. Their show wasn’t high class to begin with. It wasn’t terrible either; it had enough stupidity to be funny but not annoying, and they consistently did good work both debunking and cleansing cases. Their system was effective. Holster and Ransom were the boisterous personalities that kept the humor going, Shitty was the character and life of the show, Lardo was the no nonsense techie, and Jack was the cranky demonologist. Adding a psychic was just going to cheapen things, push the show the extra inch necessary to make it the campy drama that the harsher critics always accused it of being.

            He kept his mouth shut, though, knowing that there was nothing he could do since the guy had already been hired.

            “Dude, I wonder if he’ll be all mysterious and shit.” Holster said to ransom as they trapesed into the room together.

            “Yeah, bro, he could be all ‘I can see your desires’” Ransom laughed, wiggling his fingers and widening his eyes dramatically.

            “Hey, just because you don’t believe in ghosts doesn’t mean he can’t see your desires!”

            “Nah, it’s all just a bunch of bullshit. He randomly guesses at stuff until he finds out about your dead aunt Martha or whatever.” Ransom said, waving his hand flippantly.

            They sat down and began bickering quietly. It was only a few minutes before there was a timid knock on the door. Standing there, nervously clutching what appeared to be a beautifully made pie, was a skinny man with big brown eyes and perfectly sculpted blonde hair.

            “I’m Eric Bittle. Chad, the uh, producer, told me that I could find the team in here?” he said it like a question, his high pitched voice infused with a thick southern accent.

            “Bro! Is that fucking pie?” Holster shouted, swooping down and snatching the pie away.

            “Oh, um, yes! I baked it just to say hello” he stuttered, looking slightly forlorn and slightly frightened as Holster shoved his finger into a hole in the lattice crust, licking the filling off and moaning ridiculously.

            “It’s great to finally meet you, Bittle!” Shitty shouted, wringing his hand enthusiastically; “I’m Shitty. Well, on TV I’m known as Crappy, but my friends call me Shitty.”

Bittle laughed; “Yeah, I’ve watched a few episodes of the show, I know who ya’ll are.”

Everyone took their turns shaking his hand and introducing themselves anyway. Jack hadn’t moved from where he was sitting at his desk, although he hadn’t been paying attention to his laptop since Bittle came in.

“You must be Jack.” Bittle finally said, after looking at him for a moment and realizing he wasn’t going to make the first move.

Jack nodded, arms crossed over his chest, and said nothing. Luckily Bittle was distracted by Holster’s shout of joy at having dug enough forks for all of them out of a drawer somewhere. When Holster offered him a fork and he refused he could see Bittle off to the side, staring at him with a look somewhere between fury and terror. He knew he shouldn’t be such a dick, but pie really wasn’t in his diet plan.

“So, Bitty—“

“Bittle” he corrected Shitty, who waved his hand dismissively.

“Bitty sounds better. Also, you’re super freakin small so it works.” Bittle looked more bemused than insulted, and Shitty continued; “what made you want to join the swasome team of the Ghost Whisperers?”

“Oh, well, I’ve always been able to see more of the afterlife than other people. I just graduated high school, and I wanted to be able to use my ability to help people. Ya’ll do really good work and there was an application available online so it seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up.”

That accent had to be fake, Jack thought. He must be trying to have a TV personality or something. There’s no way anyone’s southern accent is that thick outside of terrible movies.

Jack tried his best to focus on research while the rest of the team chatted away.

 

 *********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

           Luckily, the next two episodes would only be featuring Bittle for a few minutes of screen time. He had walked into both scenes, one a family home and the other an abandoned building that used to be a credit union, and declared that there were no spirits. He wasn’t rude about it or anything. He was unfailingly polite to the family, only telling the team once they were alone that it was all baloney. It grated on Jack, though. Half of the fun of paranormal investigation, the reason he went into this and not what his dad did, was the discovery. Not that he really believed that Bittle could walk into any given building and know instantly how many spirits were there. That would be ridiculous. The fact that both cases had been easily debunked—leaky pipes in the house, vandals messing around at night in the credit union—was purely coincidental.

            They had just arrived in Kansas City for a case investigating a suburban home. Jack hadn’t even wanted to take this one; it was an old lady living alone in an old house, complaining of odd sounds and her dead husband returning in dreams. The elderly did not always prove the best witnesses, old houses made all kinds of annoying noises that would throw their investigation off, and dreams were useless. He hadn’t said any of that, though, partly because he didn’t want to sound like an asshole and partly because Bittle had taken one look at the woman’s claims and insisted there was something going on. Jack wanted to know for himself whether Bittle was an actual psychic or just a good guesser, and seeing what he does in a house that he declared himself to be haunted seemed like a good way to do that.

           

            “Alright, everything’s set. You guys ready?” Lardo asked, hoisting the camera she had been fiddling with up onto her shoulder as everyone piled out of the van.

            “Fuck yeah, let’s de-ghost this shit.” Shitty said, waltzing confidently to the door.

            The house seemed nice, the yellow paint slightly worse for wear but nowhere near the decrepit stage expected from haunted houses. There was a wreath made of tiny pumpkins and orange maple leaves on the door, and when Jack rang the bell it chimed merrily. He had already done this, of course. They would always ring the bell once right after showing up without cameras to introduce themselves in a calmer setting and give the resident a mic so they could be heard on camera.

            When a small, crumpled looking woman answered the door Jack put on his camera smile; “Hello Mrs. Taika, I’m Jack Zimmermann with the Ghost Whisperers.”

            She smiled shrilly and opened the door wider; “Of course, of course. Come in.”

            The home was nice, everything tidy from the floral couch in the living room to the decorative teapots in the kitchen. Jack felt Bittle slide past him to introduce himself in his usual overly polite manner, asking that Mrs. Taika to show them around and tell them where incidents have occurred. This was usually Shitty’s bit, but as the psychic on the team it was Bitty whose opinion they were looking for on the first run through.

            Lardo followed them with the camera as Mrs. Taika showed them a tiny kitchen, a smaller sitting room, and two even tinier bedrooms.

            “This one’s just used for storage, now.” She said, gesturing unnecessarily at the boxes and tubs haphazardly stacked into one small room; “my husband used to use it for his tinkering. He worked on old clocks and watches.”

            “Is that what he did for a living?” Bitty asked, stepping carefully into the room while looking intently at a workbench that was pushed along one wall and weighed down with several cardboard boxes.

            “Oh, no. He sold real-estate. Clocks were just his hobby.”

            “He had a passion for it. That’s likely why he’s still present in this room.” Bitty said, a slightly mystified tone to his voice.

            Mrs. Taika put a hand over her chest and nodded vigorously; “Yes, yes I thought so. I’ve been hearing noises coming from in here.”

            Jack wrinkled his nose. He wished Bitty would let her mention the noises first, otherwise she would probably just agree with everything he said.

            “What types of noises?” he asked, trying to look polite.

            “Clocks ticking, which is strange, because there aren’t any working ones in here.” She said. That didn’t mean anything to him. She could be convincing herself a clock ticking in another room was coming from here, or there could be a clock she forgot she had packed in one of these boxes. “I’ve also heard him humming. Harold loved to hum while he worked, you know.”  That was more interesting.

            “You mentioned in your letter that you’ve heard noises in your bedroom?” Bitty asked, flashing his winning smile at her.

            “Oh, yes. I’ve heard footsteps in there when I’m in the sitting room watching television.”

            She showed them the bedroom—pink, frilly, and normal.

            “Thank you so much for showing us your home, Mrs. Taika. We can conduct our investigation tonight. It would be best if you vacated around eight so we can move in and start setting up. We should be out of here around four or five in the morning.” Shitty gave her the spiel as they walked out, thanking her again before they headed to the van.

            “It’s a small house.” Ransom pointed out; I’m not sure we all need to be in on this one.”

            “You and Holster will stay in the van with Lardo after we set up. Shitty and I will try to contact spirits inside, and Bittle can do… what he does.” Jack said, looking at Bittle out of the corner of his eye. For their last two investigations he had elected to do nothing, but Jack was certain he’d want to participate tonight.

            “So, Bits. What’d you see in there? You seemed a little wiggy, man.” Shitty said, clapping him on the shoulder.

            Bittle startled and laughed nervously; “Oh, sorry. I get a bit distracted when I, uh, sense things.”

            “So what did you sense?” Holster asked.

            “Well,” Bittle said, wrinkling his nose; “there was definitely something there. I don’t think it’s her husband, though.”

            “What makes you say that? She seems pretty convinced.” Jack said, raising his eyebrows skeptically.

            “It seemed mean. I mean, it was mean. It was definitely not her nice dead husband. I don’t even think it was human.” Bitty stuttered, shivering slightly; “I mean, I’m not positive, but I was starting to feel faint. I always feel faint when there’s something demonic around.”

            “Well shit, bro, this might be interesting after all.” Shitty said, high fiving Holster.

            Bittle just nodded, not looking in the least amused.

            Jack wasn’t amused either. Apparently they didn’t just have a psychic, they had a fainting psychic. With a penchant for the dramatic. Tonight was shaping up to be a disaster of an investigation if he had ever seen one.


	2. Chapter 2

            Annoyed or not, Jack was nothing if not thorough. If Bitty thought this little old lady somehow had a demon in her house without even knowing it then they needed more information. Searching the internet for murders and tragedies in a specific location is tedious work, though, and after three hours of nothing Jack was seriously doubting if this place had any sort of insidious history.

            “Jack,” Lardo groaned, stretching out from her sprawled position on the bed; “are you sure there even needs to be some dark and dramatic past for there to be a demon in the house?” She asked, emphasizing ‘dark and dramatic past’ with finger quotes.

            “No, but there usually is. Demons don’t just stroll around looking for little old ladies to cohabitate with. There’s usually something that brought them in.”

            “Well I hardly think Mrs. Taika was fucking with a Ouija board.” She muttered climbing off of the bed and trudging over to the coffee machine for her fifth cup.

            Jack sighed and nodded. He wasn’t particularly happy about spending so much time in his dingy hotel room doing researching while everyone else on the team slept in preparation for that night.

            He was ready to give it up for a lost cause, maybe just pretend for the cameras that Mrs. Taika was being haunted by an Alp. Demons associated with nightmares were easy to spin; they just had to construe her dreams about her husband differently. Just as he started to shut his laptop there was a flurry of vigorous knocking on the door.

            Lardo looked at him over the brim of her coffee cup with raised eyebrows. He shrugged; they didn’t have to leave for several hours yet so he doubted it was someone on the team. When he opened the door Bitty was standing there clutching a pink hand towel and smiling nervously.

            “Um, I’m really sorry if you— oh, hey, Lardo!” he startled as Lardo rounded the corner to stand behind Jack; “anyway, I’m really sorry if ya’ll were sleeping, it’s just that I figured something out… or, I mean, I found something. I didn’t figure anything out about it. I just, uh—“

            “Bittle” Jack interrupted, feeling his eyebrow start to twitch; “what did you find?”

            “Um, well, I went back to Mrs. Taika’s—“

            “You went back there alone?” Jack asked.

            “Well, when we were there before there were so many of us, and having too many people makes it harder for me to read things—“

            “You could’ve asked to go in alone after we were done.” Jack interrupted, annoyed that Bittle had taken the investigation into his own hands without even consulting him.

            “Oh, uh, I guess I should have” He said, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, the other still holding tightly onto the tea towel; “only, you seemed angry with me for sensing anything, I didn’t want to, uh…” He trailed off, looking anywhere but at Jack.

            He felt a little guilty, to be honest. He didn’t like Bittle, but he hadn’t meant to scare him.

            “It’s fine, Bitty, it just would have been a good thing to film, is all.” Lardo placated; Jack was grateful for her ability to diffuse a situation like that.

            “Right, sorry.” He said, looking crushed.

            Jack stepped back from the door, motioning for him to come inside; “Show us what you found.”

            Bittle walked over to the bed and shook the tea towel until a tiny, antique looking pocket watch fell out. The silver casing was dented on one side and covered in scratch marks, but it still functioned if the faint ticking noise was any indication.

            “I asked Mrs. Taika if I could see her husband’s workshop again. This was hidden in one of the drawers in his desk. I was able to find it because it has its own energy, almost like something is drawn to it.” His southern drawl was as thick as ever, rolling over the words as he spoke timidly; “it might be nothing, I just… it feels bad. I don’t even want to touch it.”

            “I guess that explains how she heard ticking from in there.” Lardo said, leaning over the watch.

            Jack, however, shook his head; “it’s ticking too faintly for her to hear from another room. I didn’t even notice it through the towel.” He picked the watch up, turning it over in his hand. Bittle squeaked, and he looked over at him with one eyebrow raised.

            “Sorry,” he said, wringing his hands nervously; “it’s just…”

            “Evil?” Jack asked. Based on the way Bittle’s face fell he probably thought Jack was mocking him, although he had been entirely serious. “Demons can attach themselves to objects fairly easily. The end goal, though, is always to get into a person. If there’s a demon attached to this watch then why hasn’t it already taken control of Mrs. Taika?”

            “Well,” Bittle said; “I actually sat down with her for a little bit, and once she was more comfortable talking to me she started to tell me things.” He looked up nervously, and Jack waited for him to continue; “She said that she’s been losing time. She’ll be standing in the kitchen at noon, and the next thing she knows she’s sitting in the living room at six.”

            “How often does this happen?” Jack asked, intrigued.

            “About once a week, I think. She was pretty vague. I got the impression that it’s been happening more and more. I think she was afraid we’d call her crazy if she told us.”

            “Well, it’s a good thing your southern charm coerced her into honesty.” Lardo said, nudging Bittle in the shoulder.

            He grinned at her “Yeah, well, I do consider myself a gentleman.”

            Jack found himself smiling at their easy companionship. Was he the only one on the team who wasn’t friends with Bittle? If he was actually telling the truth about this watch, Jack would have to seriously rethink how terse he had been.

            “This is a Keplat brand watch.” Jack said.

            “Um. Okay.” Lardo said, raising her eyebrows.

            “Keplat watches were very valuable and very rare in the United States from 1793 to 1830. The company ended when the owner—the grandson of the founder—was murdered along with his two children by his wife Mabel.”

            “Oh goodness” Bitty said, looking at the watch with wide eyes.

            “Mabel claimed that god made her kill them as punishment for practicing witchcraft. She was put in an insane asylum, I think.”

            “Jack, how the shit do you know this?” Lardo asked, taking the watch from him and turning it around in her fingers.

            “There’s an inscription that says ‘Keplat’ on the inside—“

            “Not ‘how did you figure it out’, how did you know everything about this company?”

            “Oh, um. Knowing about gruesome murders is kind of part of what I do.” He shrugged; “I also watch a lot of history channel.”

            Bittle snorted a laugh, and although Jack hadn’t exactly intended for that to be a joke he was pleased.

            “Well, I suppose that could explain why there’s a presence with this watch. It’s just…” Bittle trailed off, looking over at Jack uncertainly. He tried to school his face into something encouraging instead of what Shitty called his ‘resting bitch face’. “I hardly think that every watch Keplat ever sold was in and of itself an evil conduit. This is a very concentrated kind of terrible.”

            “Ah! Bitty, you’re fucking right!” Lardo shouted, squinting at the back of the watch; “It’s super faded, but I think it says something about Mabel here.” She turned the watch so that they could see, but all Jack saw were faded scratch marks. “Hang on.” She tossed the watch onto the bed, making Bittle squeak and jump back. “I think your zoom lens can work as a magnifying glass” she called over her shoulder, rooting through Jack’s luggage for his camera bag.

            “Your zoom lens?” Bittle asked, looking at him curiously.

            “I take pictures sometimes” Jack mumbled.

“Oh! For the show?” Bittle asked, looking far too excited for something so uninteresting.

“Ah, no, I’m not that good.” He said, rubbing neck sheepishly.

“You’re fucking great” Lardo said, glaring at him as she jogged back over with a chunky zoom lens held delicately in her hand.

“Let’s see this inscription, then.” Jack said. Bittle looked like he wanted to say something, but let Jack change the subject.

Lardo held the lens over the watch and Jack leaned over to look into it. Barely discernable through layers of dirt and missing several letters was a delicate inscription.

T --- Mab—l

\--it—Lo—e

            “’To Mabel with Love’” Lardo said, and Jack nodded.

            “Bittle, come look.”

            Bittle was standing by the side of the bed, looking nervous again. “Oh, um, that’s ok. I trust ya’ll to read it correctly.”

            “What’s wrong Bits?” Lardo asked, still looking through the lens.

            “I just don’t think ya’ll should be touching it so much.” Bittle said; “I mean, not that you don’t know how to handle stuff like this! It’s just, um, it seems angry. Angrier than before, I mean.”

            Lardo looked at him skeptically, but lowered the watch back onto the bed all the same. “Is it in here right now?”

            “No? I don’t think so.” He said, twisting his hands around nervously.

            “You don’t think so?” Jack repeated, more a statement than a question.

            “Well, um, I think he’s still at Mrs. Taika’s house. But he knows the watch is here. He, um, he doesn’t like that it’s been moved.”

            “Demons aren’t limited to one place of existence like humans. It’s possible that he’s here and there.” Jack said thoughtfully.

            “Yes! That sounds right.” Bittle sighed in relief; “he’s not as strong of a presence here, but he’s definitely here.”

“Well then we won’t touch it anymore” Lardo said, picking the watch up with the dish towel Bittle had used earlier and setting it on the dresser.  Bittle visibly relaxed. Jack hoped he would be able to handle the investigation tonight; it looked like it was about to be interesting.

The thought that Bittle had planted the watch crossed his mind; it was almost too perfect for him to find a classic demon object by himself, but somehow Jack doubted it. He may not exactly like Bittle, but he doubted he would have it in him to lie like that.

            “You have three hours before we head out. Go take a nap.” Jack said, and Bittle nodded.

“Alright, Jack.” He waved goodbye before leaving the room with one last glance at the dishtowel covered watch.

            As soon as the door closed Lardo leveled a look at him.

            “What?”

            “Would it kill you to give some encouragement? Like, ‘good job figuring out basically the entire investigation Bittle’ or something?”

            “I wasn’t discouraging—“ Jack started to defend himself but Lardo cut him short.

            “He thinks you hate him! Hell, I think you hate him. You’re going to have to do a little better than ‘not discouraging’” she said, putting air quotes around the last two words “if you want him to think any different.”

            Jack pursed his lips. He wouldn’t have wanted Bittle to think that he liked him this morning, in fact, he had been making a point to demonstrate his dislike, but now…

            “Just” she sighed; “try to be nicer to him. I mean, Ransom totally thinks he’s a fake but he’ll still hang out with the kid.”

            “Ransom thinks we’re all fakes” Jack said, smiling ruefully.

            “Yeah, and look at how he manages to not be a dick.” Lardo said, softening her words with a pat to Jack’s shoulder; “I’m gonna get some sleep. You staying up?”

            “Yeah” Jack said, thankful that she didn’t expect a response; “I need to fact check on the Keplat story.”

            She shrugged, knowing that telling him to sleep when he had work to do was a lost battle. “You’d better be bright eyed and bushy tailed for tonight. It’s gonna be a good one.”

            They grinned at each other for a moment before she turned a left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

            Jack sat down at his computer, pulled open a tab, and googled “How to encourage a teammate”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you thought I abandoned this, but here I am back from the dead.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who commented; you guys are what keep me going. Hopefully updates will become more regular now that I'm settled in my classes.
> 
> Out of curiosity, would you rather have more frequent shorter chapters or less frequent longer chapters?


	3. Chapter 3

            Three hours later the team was standing around the lobby, hyper and ready for their investigation. Shitty was practically bouncing off the walls, and Jack knew for a fact that the red bull in his hand was not the first, or the last, of the night.

            “You’re going to have a heart attack someday, Shits.” He said, following with his eyes as Shitty jumped up and down.

            “Brah, I’m just high on the thrill of the chase.” He said, slinging an arm around Jack’s shoulder while still jumping.

            “I think you’re actually high on redbull” Jack deadpanned.

He heard a giggle from beside him and found Bittle grinning at the two of them. He looked happy, excited even, despite his lack of sleep. Jack hoped that boded well in the ‘not fainting in the middle of the investigation’ department.

“Alright, team!” Jack called, and everyone gathered around in a circle; “Bittle discovered something when he went back to Mrs. Taika’s home last night. Bittle, do you want to tell them about what you found?” Jack asked, looking expectantly at him. He could practically feel Shitty’s inquisitive look boring through the side of his head; he usually never had anyone else speak in his pep talks, but the website on encouragement had emphasized allowing for a sense of accomplishment and responsibility. He didn’t want it to seem like he was taking credit for Bitty’s discovery by explaining it for him.

As Bittle jumped into his narrative Lardo made a point of catching Jack’s eye from behind the massive camera she was filming the meeting with. She smiled and nodded, so he knew he hadn’t fucked up yet.

“….and then I brought the watch to Jack and Lardo since Jack does so much of the research and he knew what it was immediately.” Bittle finished happily, looking over at Jack.

Jack smiled back, hoping it wasn’t awkward or anything since he had to consciously remind himself not to have ‘resting bitch face’. He retold the history of the Keplat family, adding the detail that Mabel had killed herself in the insane asylum and that the watch was one of the things that she took with her there. “There were only brief mentions of the watch in any documentation or stories about Mabel since no one recognized it as anything important. This is speculation, but based on what Bittle was able to” he faltered slightly, trying to pick a nicer word than ‘guess’; “based on what Bittle was able to discern Mabel could have used the watch as a conduit for the demon entering the mortal world, or the demon could have entered the watch after she died.”

“Why would he go in a watch? Don’t they usually go for baby dolls and other scary stuff?” Holster asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“He would go into the watch for the same reason demons would go into dolls. They latch onto things that hold emotional significance and energy; this watch was a gift to Mabel from her dead husband.” Jack said; “after it fell into Mr. Taika’s hands it became active. This could be because he fixed it, or because he was the first person to possess it for a long period of time. We really can’t know all the details.”

“So where is it?” Ransom asked; “can I see it?”

Jack pulled it out of his pocket where he’d stuffed it, tea towel and all, before leaving his room. When he handed it to Ransom he immediately unwrapped it, turning the watch over in his hands skeptically. “This inscriptions pretty faded, bro.” he said, squinting at the back; “I can see where you got the Mabel part, but that ‘M’ kinda looks like a fancy ‘N’. And half of it’s missing.”

Bittle shifted nervously beside him, and Jack didn’t know if it was because Ransom was touching the watch or because of his skepticism. He didn’t look likely to say anything either way, so Jack shrugged; “Like I said, a lot of this is speculation. It does add up, though, if you accept that the watch was hers.”

Ransom nodded thoughtfully; “It’s definitely interesting” he said, which was his way of admitting that it wasn’t completely ridiculous.

The watch got passed around the circle, to Holster, Lardo, and Shitty, who each turned it around in their hands and analyzed the inscription as if they hoped to read something different. Jack kept as eye on Bittle who was resolutely staring at the ground, his hands twisting around each other faster and faster as the watch traded hands. Shitty whistled once he was satisfied with his examination. “So you got mad readings on this thing, Bits?” He asked, nonchalantly passing the watch across Jack’s chest towards Bittle. He made a small noise of surprise, twitching backwards and staring wide eyed at the faintly ticking watch. Jack grabbed it from Shitty and wrapped it back in the towel before stuffing it in his pocket.

“Oh, uh, definitely” Bittle said, his shoulders noticeably relaxing once the watch was out of sight; “it made me feel heavy, and the demon attached to it is definitely angry now.”

“What do you mean ‘now’?” Jack asked curiously. Had it gotten worse?

“Well, it wasn’t angry per se when I first found it. It was just…” he wrinkled his nose as he thought; “It was determined. And evil, definitely evil. It got angry when I took the watch out of the house.”

Holster looked at Jack; “That’s classic demon behavior, right? It wants to do something to Mrs. Taika, and Bitty made that harder by taking its vessel out of the house.”

“It’s actually a good thing,” Jack said, nodding thoughtfully; “it’s still tied to this vessel enough to be inconvenienced by it moving, which means it isn’t completely tied to Mrs. Taika.”

“Well that’s morbid.” Shitty muttered before flashing a grin at the group; “So what’s the game plan captain? We going in there Ghost Busters style?”

Lardo groaned; “Shitty! Fucking copyright, man!”

Shitty waved his hand dismissively “You have to cut half the shit that comes out of my mouth, Lards. You should be used to it by now.”

Lardo flipped him the bird, and Jack paused long enough before running through the plan that she would have an easier time cutting around it.

Mrs. Taika was still there when they pulled up to the house. Jack opened the door with the key she’d loaned them and strolled in, ready to scope out camera locations, only to find her sitting at the kitchen table, nervously fiddling with her suitcase. He froze; they always made it clear in their investigations that they would come in around 10 PM and that the house should be vacated so they could set up as quickly as possible.

“Mr. Zimmermann, I just wanted to make sure that you knew.” She said, rising nervously from her seat. Jack must have been glaring because she blanched and backed away; “sorry to interrupt, sorry, I just…”

“That’s alright, ma’am, what is it that you wanted to tell us?” Bittle piped up cheerily, brushing past Jack to stand in front of him. He let himself relax, stepping back to let Bittle take over.

“I just don’t want you to hurt him.” She said, leaning towards Bittle conspiratorially.

“Hurt who, Mrs. Taika?” he asked, seemingly unperturbed when she reached out and gripped his arm.

“My husband. I don’t want him hurt or gone, I just want proof he’s here. Proof I’m not…” She trailed off slowly.

Bittle looked back at Jack questioningly and he stepped forward, schooling his face into something less menacing. “Our preliminary investigation is simply for establishing proof.”

She looked at him skeptically and Bittle put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Don’t you worry, ma’am, we just want to see if we can talk to him tonight.” He grinned at her, and she seemed satisfied enough with that answer to let him carry her suitcase to her car and see her out.

The next few hours were spent setting up cameras, Lardo directing the boys like a ring leader in a circus as they balanced on chairs and ran around trying to find the perfect corner to place a camera or the perfect location for a recording device. It was around midnight when they were finally finished. “We sweep the place in pairs; Holster and Ransom you ask questions with the flashlight in the living room and in the workroom, Shitty and Lardo, you patrol around and try to provoke it. Use the watch; throw it at the wall if you have to, just try to provoke it. Bittle and I will both do a solo interaction in the workroom once you’re all finished.” He waited until everyone nodded before turning to go wait in the van with Bittle. Lardo slid in front of him before he was out the door.

“I got a text from Chad a little bit ago.” She said, leaning in close and speaking in a low tone. Ransom and Holster were in the living room goofing off with the handheld camera, Shitty was nowhere to be seen, and Bittle was standing outside of the front door, probably waiting for Jack to go join him.

“Producer Chad or marketing team Chad?” he asked, wondering why Lardo would be telling him this now.

“Producer Chad. He thinks you and Bittle should go as a team to sit in the workroom.”

Jack frowned, his eyes involuntarily looking up at Bittle. He smiled back, rocking on his heels as he held the door open.

“I think you should still do your solo stake outs afterwards, but we might get some good scenes with this and it’ll help Bitty to explain what he’s sensing if he’s talking to an actual person.”

“Didn’t he say that having people around makes it harder?” Jack asked, not particularly liking the idea of serving as Bittle’s personal sounding board.

“Yeah, but I asked him and he said just you should be fine. Something about your psychic energy being subtle or whatever.” She shrugged.

“Lards, let’s get fucking communicating up in this bitch!” Shitty called from the back of the house. Lardo gave Jack a significant look that was probably supposed to mean something to him before hoisting her camera onto her shoulder and going to join Shitty.

            He looked after her reluctantly, wanting to argue about what a waste of time it would be for him to sit around while Bittle talked about how the demon was angry (surprise surprise) or evil (even less shocking) but he knew that she was just passing orders down. Unless he wanted to call Chad right now and argue about it, something that never went well, he would just have to deal. He walked past Bittle and out onto the driveway, taking a moment to breathe in the refreshing night air before climbing into the back of the van. Bittle hoisted himself in after, pulling the door shut and rubbing at his arms.

            “Lord, it’s chilly out there, isn’t it?” he asked, going to sit in front of one of the computers hooked up to video feed in the house. It was looking at the living room, where Ransom and Holster were setting up a flashlight for the demon to turn off and on to communicate.

            Jack raised his eyebrows at Bittle, swathed in a sweater, a flannel, and a heavy pea coat. “Not really.” He said honestly.

            “Oh, well, I guess you’re just Mr. Canada over there wearing a t-shirt in 60 degree weather.” Bitty huffed, pulling gloves out of his pocket and slipping them on.

            “Mr. Canada?” Jack said, smiling despite himself; “and I thought it was 15 degrees.”

            “We are in America, _Mr. Canada_ , and in this part of America it is currently 60 degrees.” He snipped, but he was smiling. “What was Lardo talking to you about, anyway?” he asked, quickly adding “not that you have to tell me! It just seemed like something was wrong.”

            “Oh, the producer texted her. About wanting us to sit in the workroom together first.” Jack said, trying not to sound upset about it. It wasn’t Bittle’s fault the producer had insisted on it either.

            “He did? Well, that should work out fine.”

            Jack furrowed his brow; “She said she already mentioned it to you, asked if I would hinder your reading.”

            “Oh! Well, she did ask that, but she didn’t mention that it was Chad who wanted us to work together.” He said quickly.

            Jack nodded. If it was anyone but Lardo involved he would suspect they were playing a prank on him or something. Jack stared at him for a moment longer as he pulled out his phone, absently typing away, before he turned to look at the camera put up in the workroom. No one was in there, and the boxes loomed haphazardly around the room like poorly aligned columns. There was something freaky about it that he couldn’t quite place his finger on.

            “I’m glad we’re going in together.” Bittle said quietly; “I don’t know if I’m ready to be left alone with a demon.” He was looking at his lap, twisting his hands around each other again, and Jack was struck by how young he was. He must be eighteen or nineteen; his resume said he was fresh out of high school.

            Jack was no fool. He knew that Chad had never texted right before an investigation before. He usually waited to give them advice in the form of criticism afterwards instead of actual helpful instructions. If Bitty had told Lardo he didn’t want to go in alone Jack was the obvious person to pair him with. He was the demonologist; there’s no one better to discuss the demon you’re sensing with. He thought about saying something in response; he didn’t want to lie and say he was happy about it too, but he wasn’t sure what else wouldn’t sound mean. Instead, he held his fist out. Tentatively, Bittle bumped their fists together.

            “I didn’t know you gave out fist bumps.” He said, a small smile chasing the nervousness from his face.

            Jack smiled back; “we’ll make a great team, Bittle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's lots of plot to come in the next chapter! (this one was mostly setting it up)  
> Let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

            Ransom and Holster both managed to focus for a solid thirty minutes of usable footage, for which Jack was grateful.

            “Is there anyone here with us?” Holster began, staring at the flashlight on the coffee table in Mrs. Taika’s living room like he could make it turn on telepathically.

            Two blinks: yes.

            “Are you the spirit of the late Mr. Taika?” Ransom asked, eyeing Holster in a way that said _this is bullshit._

            Three blinks.

            “What does three blinks mean?” Ransom asked incredulously.

            “Bro, spirit, it’s one for no and two for yes. Are you Mr. Taika?” Holster asked loudly.

            The flashlight remained dark.

            “He doesn’t like us, bro” Holster said, shaking his head dejectedly.

Ransom rolled his eyes; “yeah or this whole flashlight thing isn’t actually a spirit communicating.”

After that the questioning picked up. Do you want to communicate with us? _Yes_. Does it upset you that we’re here? _No._ Does the name Keplat sound familiar to you? _Yes._ Does the name Mabel sound familiar to you? _Yes._ Have you ever met Mabel? _Three blinks._ Are you here to do harm? _Three blinks._ Do you like Mrs. Taika? _Yes._ Yeah but, like, in a creepy stalker way? _Yes._ Gross. What about us? Do you like us? _Three blinks._ What the hell does three blinks mean? _No response._

“I don’t know man, he seems pretty cool for a demon.” Holster said. “Oh, wait! Are you a demon?

Three blinks.

“God damn it!”

Ransom laughed at Holster’s frustration. “Oh, I have one! Do you know Eric Bittle, our resident psychic?”

Eric leaned forward in his seat beside Jack so that his face was nearly touching the monitor.

Two blinks: yes.

“Do you like Eric Bittle?”

One blink: no.

Eric sucked in a breath sharply. Jack wanted to comfort him but he wasn’t sure how. _Sorry the demon you’re afraid of hates you. Good thing we’re about to go in there and fuck with it, eh?_ Didn’t seem like an effective consolation.

“Well that’s rude. Is it because he found the watch?” Holster demanded, frustration forgotten.

Two blinks: yes.

“Do you mean him harm?”

Two blinks: yes.

“I’m gonna fight this fucking bitch ass demon!” Holster yelled, and Jack would have laughed if it sounded like he was joking.

Bittle sat back in his seat, chewing on his lip nervously.

“Stop fucking cussing!” Came Lardo’s voice faintly from somewhere else in the house, breaking the tension.

Slowly, Jack placed a hand on Eric’s shoulder as Ransom Holster left the living room to set up in the workroom. Bittle jumped at the contact, but relaxed immediately. He sent a wane and unconvincing smile Jack’s way, turning to look at the computer monitor showing the workroom footage as Ransom and Holster tromped in, narrowly avoiding an avalanche of boxes.

            Despite their rigorous questioning, the flashlight didn’t blink once. Apparently the entity, whatever it was, was done talking to them. Jack hoped it wasn’t done communicating in general. Shitty and Lardo hadn’t had any luck provoking it with the watch; they’d even gone as far as to stomp on it and all they got was Shitty jumping at his own shadow.

            The night dragged only steadily for Jack as he waited for his and Bittle’s solo stakeout at 3AM. He thought it probably felt different for Bittle, who hadn’t stopped fidgeting and fiddling with his phone. He’d gone on a rant at one point about the importance of baking powder, of all things, and thankfully he’d seemed satisfied talking for several minutes without Jack having to contribute anything. He tried to be annoyed but it was mostly endearing how Bittle waved his hands around when he talked, his entire face rising and falling with each expression.

            Jack stood up when the clock reached 2:45, stretching his cramped limbs and grabbing an EMF reader.

            “Are we going to use handheld cameras?” Bittle asked, slowly rising to his feet as well.

            “Yeah, we’ll bring one. We’ll probably mostly use the footage from the corner cam already in the room, though.” Jack said, grabbing a small handheld video camera from its bag. Jack barely knew enough about camera function to go beyond ‘point and shoot’ so he was glad when Bittle took it from him and immediately flipped it open while fiddling with the buttons.

            “I, uh, have a vlog. I’m pretty familiar with how a camera works since I use one like this to film myself.”

            “A vlog? On what?”

            “Baking!” Bittle replied with a grin; “Well, I get into cooking a fair amount too, but it’s mostly baking.”

            “Does Chad know about this?”

            “Oh, of course! I sent some videos to the production team when I applied to show that I can talk to a camera. They also had me do some social media training to make sure I knew what to say about the show and what not to.”

            Jack nodded, glad that he didn’t have to lecture Bittle over having an unfiltered social media presence when they were finally getting along. The fact that he apparently had a baking vlog struck Jack as pretty cute. He made a mental note to look it up later.

            Lardo swung the doors to the van open loudly, making Bittle jump nearly a foot in the air.

            “You fuckers ready to go solo?” Shitty asked, climbing into the back and flopping down on one of the chairs. Jack and Bittle nodded, although the later was more of a shaky twitch. “Don’t worry, Bits. Holster’s already declared war on the little cock-waffle, and I’m sure Jacky boy here will punch a demon for you.” Shitty exclaimed, slapping a nervously laughing Bittle on the back.

            “You’re not helping, Crappy.” Lardo said, turning the camera on Jack and Bitty. “You guys ready? I’m gonna film you walking in as soon as Ransom and Holster get their butts out here.”

            “Ready as I’ll ever be.” Bitty said, smiling thinly.

            Ransom and Holster burst out of the house, making enough noise to wake the neighbors. Jack would think they were running away if shouting and galloping around wasn’t their normal mode of travel. They high-fived Shitty as they clamored into the bus, offering fist bumps to Bitty.

            “You got this, little man.” Ransom said.

            Bittle rolled his eyes; “I’m not _that_ small.”

            “Small enough to get eaten by a demon?” Holster asked, but Lardo smacked him in the back of the head before Bittle could reply.

            “Let’s go.” Jack said, leading the way into the house before anyone did anything to make Bittle even more nervous.

            Lardo was a silent presence behind them as Bittle jogged to catch up, sticking close to Jack’s side. The house was innocuous as you’d expect of a suburban home, but somehow as they approached the workroom Jack got a distinct sense of foreboding. He’d been doing this long enough to know when it was his mind and anticipation playing tricks on him and when there was something going on. Whatever was haunting this house was in that room and he was fairly certain it didn’t want company.

            He opened the door, walking in between the boxes towards the center of the room with a small flashlight as his guide. Bittle was right on his heels, practically tripping over his feet, but Jack didn’t say anything. He couldn’t imagine what he was feeling; Jack didn’t have any psychic inclination and the long shadows and endless blind spots the boxes created were creeping him out.

            The room was bigger than he remembered, stacks of crap extending out, nearly obscuring the far wall completely from view. The shadows shifted and danced, stretching grotesquely as the beam of the flashlight shook with his movements. He stopped in front of the desk where a small space was cleared, sitting down cross legged. Bittle sat directly in front of him, close enough that their knees were touching. He felt claustrophobic as the boxes rose haphazardly on every side, the desk looming level with his face.

            He could make out half of Lardo past a stack of boxes. She gave him a thumbs up before leaving, closing the door behind her. Bittle fumbled with the handheld camera for a moment before he was satisfied, letting it fall into his lap.

            “I’m going to turn off the light.” Jack said; “we should sit quietly for a bit, then you can tell me what you’re sensing.”

            Bitty nodded, his expression more determined than Jack had ever seen it. He smiled reassuringly before clicking out the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit shorter since short and more frequent updates are what people said they'd prefer! Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold onto your butts for this one. I don't think it's too creepy, but then again I read horror stories for fun. Take that as you will.

           Time seemed to stretch oblong in the darkness. All Jack could hear was the sound of their breathing, the occasional shift as one of them moved slightly. He counted his breaths a few times to focus himself and stop his mind from wandering towards the looming shapes that the boxes made as his eyes adjusted.

            Once he could see clearly enough he was shocked by how still the silhouette of Bittle was. He was usually always fidgeting with something but as far as Jack could tell in this moment he might as well have been a statue.

            “What are you sensing?” he asked after several minutes, his voice low and obtrusive in the silence.

            Bittle took a long moment to answer, and when he did his voice was hardly a whisper; “He’s hiding.” He didn’t sound scared, like Jack was expecting. He spoke steadily. “He wants us to leave.”

            “Where is he hiding?” Jack asked, leaning forward to hear the response.

            “With the watch.”

            The watch was still with Shitty or Lardo in the van.

            Jack attempted to quell his panic. There were four of them and they were all trained to handle this. They’d encountered demons before in their investigations.

            “Can you bring him in here?” Jack asked after a moment.

            Bitty moved for the first time, shuddering slightly.

            “I think so.” He said. “Just—I think if you start praying or something? That’s what it’s afraid we’re gonna do.”

            “Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum.” Jack began, his voice getting louder. “Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra.” He had a sudden and consuming sensation of cold. Not like the room dropped in temperature; more like he’d been cold this whole time and was just now realizing it. “Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie,” Bittle shifted, hunching forward; “et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris.” Jack felt a sense of foreboding. It was the same feeling he always got just before a panic attack, an overwhelming sickness and guilt. “Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen.” He finished.

            Jack sat tensely in the dark, waiting for something to happen. Everything was still. Faintly the sound of ticking began from near the desk. Bittle whimpered softly, and Jack put a hand on his knee. Bittle grabbed it in his own, clutching it tightly. Something else started ticking from the other side of the room. Jack sucked in a breath as ticking started from inside of the box directly by his head. Slowly the noise grew, clocks ticking in discoordination all around the room.

            Bittle’s hand was gripping his hard enough to hurt and Jack was wondering if it would be smart to try and find one of the clocks to look at it when all of the ticking abruptly stopped. Bittle was breathing harshly, each inhale trembling with fear.

            “He—“ Bittle’s voice cut out and he cleared his throat; “He wants me to tell you that the lord’s prayer doesn’t impress him, even if you do say it in Latin.”

            “I wasn’t trying to impress him” Jack said, addressing the room as a whole; “I was trying to meet him.”

            Bittle laughed hysterically “well, he’s here.” He said, his voice pitched slightly high.

            “Where?” Jack asked, turning calmly to look behind himself. He knew that he wouldn’t see the demon unless it wanted him to but he couldn’t help but think that it must be hiding just behind one of these boxes, that maybe that shadow was it. He turned back around and froze.

            There was a shadow leaning over Bitty that he could just make out as a pitch black shape in the darkness of the room. It seemed tall, much taller than any human Jack had ever met. It was thin, too; its arms were only a few inches wide and stretched all the way to the ground. It leaned forward more, and in tandem Bittle hunched over his crossed legs more, he forehead nearly touching his calves.

            “What is your name?” Jack commanded, staring steadily at it.

            “O-Ose” Bitty said waveringly.

            Jack thought back frantically on his studies of demons. Ose, what did Ose do? He was a president of hell, a lesser demon than most. Why would Mable want to conjure Ose? Suddenly he remembered; Ose caused insanity. Whatever reason she had conjured him for, Ose had turned his power against her.  

            “What is your purpose here?” Jack asked, squeezing Bitty’s hand.

            “The same as any demon” Bitty choked; “t-to cause torment.”

            Ose leaned further over Bitty, almost touching him. Jack didn’t realize what it meant when Bittle’s hand slackened in his grip until he was tipping sideways, falling limply into a stack of boxes to their left.

“Bitty!” Jack cried, jumping after him and hunching himself over Bittle so that two heavy boxes smashed into his back and tumbled to the ground.

            He winced at the impact and vaguely registered that there would definitely be bruises. The ticking started again, this time all at once, and Jack threw Bitty over his shoulder before sprinting out of the room.

            He almost ran face first into Holster in the hallway.

            “Fuck, is he okay?”

            Jack just shook his head, running out of the house and straight to the van. He was blinded for a moment by the flashlights waving in the air, but eventually he made out that the rest of the crew was standing outside of the van doors waiting for him.

           “Lay him down.” Lardo commanded, indicating the blanket she had thrown down just inside of the van.

           Bitty was unresponsive as Jack lowered him down slowly, but his eyes fluttered when Shitty put a rolled up jacket behind his head. Ransom leaned over him, pulling his eyelids open and shining a light into them.

           “It looks like he’s just fainted.” He said and Jack sighed in relief.

           “Holy fuck, Jack. You could see that figure, couldn’t you? It was so fucking clear in the video footage li—“

           Jack cut Shitty off; “do you have the watch?”

           Shitty nodded.

           “Get it away from him.” Jack said, nodding his head towards Bitty.

           Shitty pulled the watch out of his pocket and chucked it into the neighbor’s yard.

           “Effective method” Lardo said, rolling her eyes.

           “Bitty could be dying and you’re telling jokes!” Holster cried hysterically from behind Jack.

           “Man, he’s fine. He said this happens.” She shrugged; “He’s waking up anyway.”

           Bittle’s eyes fluttered open slowly, his face scrunching up as if he was confused. Lardo shoved Ransom and Shitty away from where they were leaning over him.

           “Give him some space.” She said, giving Holster a stern look as he rushed forward.

           “Oh god” Bitty said, raising a hand to his head; “I fainted, didn’t I?” He went to sit up but immediately began wavering in place. Jack placed an arm behind his back, holding him upright.

           “I’m sorry” he said, looking up at Jack earnestly. “I didn’t mean to.”

_Jesus Christ_ , Jack thought; he looked so upset.

           “Bitty.” He said, grabbing one of his hands; “you just did the best psychic work I’ve ever seen. Crisse, don’t apologize for that.”

           Bittle gripped his hand back and looked down, sniffling slightly.

           “Yeah man, holy fucking tits-in-a-basket that was swasome.” Shitty said, clapping a hand on his knee.

           Bittle sent a watery smile his way “I really hope ya’ll aren’t filming this.”

           “Nah man.” Lardo said, shrugging; “I wasn’t prepared for jack to fuckin run out of house with you over his shoulder.”

           Bittle looked up at him with wide eyes.

           Jack shrugged; “that ticking was fucking creepy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, posting another chapter so soon. Let me know what you thought!


	6. Chapter 6

            Jack hated Chad. Like, despised him. If Jack was a ghost, he would haunt the fuck out of Chad. In fact, he’s planning on doing just that if he dies first.

            “Man _fuckkkkkkkk_ the production team.” Shitty whined from where he was sitting on the floor of Jack’s hotel room.

            “Yeah, I mean, there’s no way that shit was faked.” Ransom said, running a hand over his head and leaning back in the desk chair he was sitting on. “I would totally know if you guys were faking.”

            Holster, sitting cross legged on the tiny desk in front of Ransom, snorted; “thanks for the vote of confidence, brah. As if we would cheat.” Ransom just waved a hand at him and he leaned back, making the desk legs creak menacingly.

            Jack ignored them and scowled at his laptop, angrily rereading the email he’d just gotten from fucking Chad the producer asshole. There was a knock at the door, and Lardo hopped off of where she was sprawled across Jack’s legs at the foot of the bed to answer it.

            “Bits, bro, welcome to the waking world” she said, pulling him into the room and closing the door behind him.

            He smiled and pulled a stolen comforter from his bed closer around his shoulders. It was a hideous green and orange pattern, but Jack thought Bitty looked endearing wrapped up in it like he was, letting it trail behind him like a cloak as he walked into the room. Jack scooted over, and he plopped down next to him.

            “Bro, you didn’t sleep that much longer than us. I thought psychic work made you tired.” Ransom said, raising an eyebrow at Bitty.

            He shrugged in response; “I was too keyed up to really sleep. I mostly just laid there.”

            Lardo grunted in sympathy and collapsed back onto the bed, making Bitty yelp and curl his legs up so she wouldn’t lay on them. Jack let her throw herself over his knees, stabilizing his laptop with one hand as the bed shook.

            “Bro, you wanna hear about the newest gift that our dickliness, Chad the producer, has bestowed upon us?” Shitty asked from where he was sitting on the floor, laying his arms on the bed next to Bitty and propping his chin on them.

            Bitty laughed; “Um, alright. I’m sure it’ll be entertaining.”

            “Apparently,” he began, ignoring Lardo as she poked his cheek with one socked toe “the raw, unedited, unfaked, real-as-shit footage that we sent them looked _contrived_ and _questionable_ ” he said, dramatically adding finger quotes to the adjectives; “so we’re going to have to edit the sound and remove the ticking even though it _definitely fucking happened_ and just use the shadow over you as evidence.” He finished with a flourish, throwing his hands in the air dramatically.

            Bitty bit his lip and looked at Jack; “but, we didn’t fake it. I mean, I don’t even know how we would fake it.”

            Jack sighed and snapped his laptop shut, depositing it unceremoniously on the nightstand next to himself. “We know that, but Chad doesn’t think that a Television Audience will believe it.” He said, running a hand over his face.

            Bitty sighed. “Has this ever happened to you before?”

            “I’ve been accused of faking before but… that was different.” Jack said, shaking his head “and there wasn’t any video evidence.” _Why did you say that?_ He thought furiously _now he’s just going to think you did fake it, or worse, he’s going to ask—_

            Bitty put a hand on his elbow and grinned consolingly “well, I mean, just about half the people I meet think I’m nuttier than a squirrel even after I tell them their deepest secrets. I suppose it’s part of the business.”

            _Me included_ Jack thought with a pang of regret.

            “This is just the first time that we’ve actually found good honest-to-shit-making-Ransom-question-his-entire-world-view type evidence.” Shitty said, smashing his face into the comforter and groaning.

            Ransom nodded solemnly and Holster clapped a hand on his shoulder.

            Bitty sighed “Well, at least the shadow’ll make the final cut.” He yawned and cracked his neck, hunkering down into his comforter.

            They had a meeting with Mrs. Taika the next morning, but as of now it was 3:00PM and everybody had already finished their post-hunt naps. They’d be discussing strategy late into the night, but they had time so Jack didn’t feel the pressing need to be a hard-ass about it.

            Lardo turned the TV onto some reality show and Jack pulled his laptop back open, ready to spend several hours researching Ose and all of his incarnations. When Bitty slid sideways until he was resting on Jack’s shoulder, face slack with sleep, Jack didn’t make any effort to move him. Bitty’s warm body pressed against his own was nice, and god only knew the psychic needed the rest.

*************************

            “Mrs. Taika, please” Bittle said for the third time; “I know that he’s pretending to be your husband—”

 

            “He is my husband.” She interrupted, turning her nose up and crossing her arms. Jack fought the urge to slam his head into the table in front of him.

 

            “Demons are full of tricks.” Bittle beseeched, leaning forward in his chair.

            “Are you telling me” Mrs. Taika hissed, “that I can’t recognize my own husband?” Jack closed his laptop with a sigh, knowing it was a lost cause at this point. Lardo shared a look with him from where she was filming in the corner of the room.

            “Not at all ma’am” Bitty said, looking thoroughly flustered.

            “We will not conduct any exorcisms without your consent Mrs. Taika, I assure you.” Jack said, and he rose from his seat. “Thank you so much for your time. We’ll get back to you for follow-up interviews in a few days once the footage is compiled.”

            She shook their hands without looking them in the eye, and once the front door closed behind them—rather more decisively than necessary—Jack heaved a sigh.

            “I don’t get it” Bitty said, whispering furiously; “she saw the footage! Why in tarnation would she think _that_ was her husband?”

            Jack shrugged and Lardo rolled her eyes “people are dumb. This isn’t even the stupidest reaction we’ve had.” She said, climbing into the back of the van to stow her equipment away.

            Jack climbed into the driver’s seat and Bitty got in beside him, pulling his seatbelt angrily across himself.

            “I’m having a hard time imagining stupider.” He muttered.

            That startled a laugh out of Jack, who had never heard Bittle say anything remotely mean before.

            “One girl collected haunted objects. She had a whole room, and when she started to see things in her place she was excited. Shitty was pretty sure that it was a fetish of some kind.” He said as he started the car, laughing at Bittle’s bug-eyed look.

            “I kind of feel bad for Mrs. Taika. I mean, she just wants to hold onto her dead husband.” Lardo said, popping her head in between their seats.

            “Bless her heart.” Bittle muttered, pulling out his phone and typing something furiously.

            Jack wasn’t quite sure what ‘bless her heart’ meant, but he thought he understood the message.

            They drove in silence on the way back to the hotel. It wasn’t until they were walking inside that Bittle spoke.

            “I have an idea” he said, pocketing his phone. “I can do a séance, expose Ose for what he really is.”

            Jack’s brow furrowed; “Have you done séances before?”

            “Oh lord, yes. That’s how I made extra money in high school. Mind, a lot of the people I did them for weren’t expecting much, but I always managed to find something.”

            “This would work, I think” Lardo said, brow furrowing “we tell Mrs. Taika we can help her talk to her husband and when she ends up getting Ose the shit-dick instead she’ll probably be a lot more receptive to the idea of an exorcism.”

            “I don’t know.” Jack said, dread at the idea pooling in his gut; “Is it safe for you to channel a demon?”

            Bitty waved a hand at him “I’ve channeled evil spirits before.”

            “Evil spirits aren’t as likely to make you faint.”

            Bittle frowned, and looked at Jack with hurt eyes. “I know it’s inconvenient—“

            “No” Jack sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not that. Bittle, there’s a fine line between channeling and possession. If you faint while you’re channeling him then he’ll have full access to your body.”

            Bittle looked away, biting at his lip.

            “Well, this is my room. I’m gonna go nap, let me know what you decide.” Lardo said. Bittle smiled at her, and when he looked away she winked at Jack. Whatever that was supposed to mean.

            Jack shook his head and turned to his room across the hall.

            “Come on” he said, looking back at Bittle as he pushed the door open.

            “It’s just, I don’t really think I have a choice.” Bittle said as they moved to sit on the bed, legs nearly touching. “If I don’t do this, Mrs. Taika will live with a demon. No matter what, we’re risking someone getting possessed. The only difference is if it’s Mrs. Taika or me, and at least if it’s me it’ll be in the presence of someone who can do exorcisms.” He looked up at Jack beseechingly.

            Jack sighed and shook his head. “Mrs. Taika isn’t on my team. I wouldn’t want any of you doing this.”

            “Jack” Bittle said, putting a hand on Jack’s knee “If I wanted, I could have gone to college, or worked at a bakery, or kept figure skating, or done really anything with my life if I just ignored my abilities. Instead, I decided to move up here and investigate paranormal phenomena with this crazy team because I want to help people. Mrs. Taika needs help.”

            Jack frowned at the hand on his knee, thinking desperately that maybe if Bittle wasn’t such an amazing person they could just put together some semblance of the truth with their footage and leave. After a moment, he nodded.

            “You’re going to do this whether I tell you to or not, eh? I might as well have your back.”

            Bitty’s eyes glimmered with humor “Now you’re getting it.”

            Jack looked at him, how his eyes shone with determination, and felt the sudden urge to keep this conversation going. For maybe the first time he could remember, he desperately didn’t want to be left alone with his research and his thoughts.

            “You used to figure skate?” he blurted, feeling accomplished as Bittle’s face lit up with a smile.

            “I sure did! I went all the way to Southern Junior Regionals before we had to move away.” He shrugged and looked ruefully at his hands “my coach, Kataya, was too far away after that.”

            “Why did you move?” Jack asked. He felt his teeth grit with frustration when Bittle pulled his hand away, hunching his shoulders inwards.

            “Oh, you know, I don’t really fit into tiny bible-belt towns. For a few reasons.”

            “Do-“ Jack started, and then tentatively put a hand on Bitty’s shoulder “Do you feel like you fit in here?”

            Bitty dazzled a smile up at him “Yeah, I really do.”

            Jack smiled back, and when Bitty suggested they watch some Netflix (“you’ve never heard of _Chopped_?! Mr. Zimmermann, I am ashamed _for_ you”) it only felt natural.

 *************************************

            Setting up a séance apparently requires a drive to Michael's. Ransom had tried to make fun of Bitty for this, but after a thirty minute lecture on the importance of properly made candles and the startling lack of “specialty” stores in this “godforsaken nowhere town, I mean even Maddison had _some_ options and they think people who do séances worship the devil and hate America” they all decided not to question Bittle’s needs.

            Mrs. Taika had agreed, after some persuasion on Shitty’s part, that they could hold a séance that night to try and reach her husband.

            So now Jack was pulling up in front of Mrs. Taika’s tiny suburban home trying to ignore the way Bittle was fidgeting with the box full of purple candles in his lap.

            “Why’s it gotta be midnight? My schedule’s never gonna get unfucked at this point” Holster groaned from the back seat.

            “Spirits are strongest from midnight to 3:33 in the morning” Bittle sighed, twisting around in his seat to point a finger at Holster “and you did not need to come.”

            “Brah, we’ve all gotta come so you have more firepower to beat up this demon.” Shitty piped up.

            “That’s not how it works. That’s not how any of this works.” Jack said, and got flipped off in return.

            Bitty look nervous all the way up to Mrs. Taika’s front door, but he put a cheery face on as she glared them into the kitchen. She had all of her lights off save the one over the stove, and she’d placed several mismatched folding chairs next to the wooden ones that usually accompanied the small round table. Jack, Holster, Ransom, Shitty, and Mrs. Taika all sat down at Bitty’s urging, cramming around it until their shoulders touched. Jack was sitting on one side of Mrs, Taika, leaning into Shitty in an attempt not to crowd her. She was sitting rigidly, back so straight it was almost concave. Bitty set six candles on the table, lighting them each with a bright red zippo lighter Shitty had produced. He poured some red wine they’d picked up in a small plastic glass and set it next to a small, adorable pie.

            “Bits” Shitty whispers, as if everyone in the room can’t hear him “Bits where the ass did you get that pie?”

            Bitty glares at him and shrugs; “I made mini-pies before we left so we could eat them to celebrate once the investigation was done.”

            Holster gasped in delight and Lardo smacked him in the back of the head with one hand, hefting her camera onto her shoulder with the other. “We’re _professionals”_ she said, not looking up from where she was adjusting the lens.

            Jack, who would be more embarrassed if he wasn’t desensitized to this sort of thing, watched Mrs. Taika carefully. She sat as rigid as ever, not adjusting her gaze from the table in front of her to even glare at them.

            Bitty finally had everything arranged to his satisfaction. He turned off the light over the stove and sat down, his face looking long and somber as the candle light lit it flickeringly from below.

            “Let’s begin” he said, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO THIS IS LATE  
> I'm so sorry guys. Finals really took it out of me this year. We are now back to the normal, slightly better, irregularities of my updates.


	7. Chapter 7

Jack stared intently at Bittle as he prepared himself for the séance, rolling his shoulders and sitting up straight. If he didn’t already know that Bitty was scared out of his mind he would never have guessed. He wasn’t sure if this was a comforting thought or not.

            “We all need to hold hands.” Bittle said, smiling at Mrs. Taika as she stoically placed her hand in his.

            Jack didn’t spare her a glance as her bony fingers slid into his palm, watching Bittle intently.

            “Spirits of the past, move among us” Bittle spoke, his voice loud and steady in the tiny kitchen. It felt powerful, somehow, like it was echoing off of the cheesy lime green wallpaper and surrounding their circle. “Be guided by the light of this world and visit upon us. We bring an offering of food and fire; come speak on our mortal plane.”

            He could see Ransom craning his neck to look around out of the corner of his eye, as if he expected Ose to stroll out of a corner and join them at the table. Everyone was tense, even the generally unfazed Lardo holding her camera steadily in the corner. Jack was starting to feel nervous, thinking that Ose might be too smart to join the circle, when he saw Bittle suck in a sharp breath and sit up impossibly straighter. The medium’s jaw twitched, minutely, before he pressed his lips together and closed his eyes.

            Jack felt it then. It was like pressure in the back of his skull, something trying to push in so it could settle behind his eyes. He knew what it was and took a breath, berating himself for not realizing that this would happen. He was the most easily penetrable in the circle, after all.

            Jack took a moment to think, resisting the pressing force as it grew stronger. If he didn’t let Ose possess him the demon would likely move to Bittle. This was the plan; it’s what everyone was prepared for, including Jack. Bittle would channel Ose to the best of his ability, speak to them and expose Ose for what he was, and somehow miraculously not lose control, faint, or get hurt in any way. When he thought about what could happen, it really wasn’t much of a decision at all.

            Jack took a deep breath in, caught one last glimpse of Bittle as he looked up at him, brows drawn together with confusion, and let Ose in.

            For a moment, he wondered if he hadn’t somehow fallen into a pool of water. Jack felt submerged, the dull light of the candles faint and distorted like he was looking through a film. There was a muffled voice, and after a moment he recognized the southern accent. He could feel Shitty’s hand gripping his own so hard it hurt, but instead of feeling the intensity of the pain he only had a dim awareness of it.

            Jack felt himself speak, the vibrations in his chest amplified by the lack of sound. Through the distortion he could make out the shape of Bittle but he couldn’t see his facial expression. Absurdly, this is what annoyed him the most. He tended to rely on expressions to know what people were thinking, and Bittle tended to be an open book.

            Trying to turn his head and look at everyone else at the table, Jack found he wasn’t in control of his body. It was like he was frozen in place, the feeling terrifyingly similar to sleep paralysis. He actively worked to calm himself, concentrating instead on the bright blur of Bitty’s face. If he was going to resist complete possession he would need to be collected. It wouldn’t be like last time; he wouldn’t let it get that far.

            He could feel Ose probing deeper, trying to gain full control, but he held strong. He was a thin layer holding back a tidal wave, trying desperately to keep the deepest recesses of his mind safe. Suddenly, Jack felt himself moving, his arms pulling out of Mrs. Taika and Shitty’s grip and bracing on the table as he stood. He resisted, pulling himself back, and was pleased to notice that he moved far slower than Ose would have liked. _Not slow enough_ he thought frantically as Bittle sprang up, blowing out the candles and shouting directions. He heard the word lights, and knew the séance had gone bad. _What did Ose say? What did he make_ me _say?_

            Bittle pushed his way around the table and up to Jack, moving in slow motion; it would have looked funny in any other situation. Grabbing his face in both hands, Bittle tilted his head down. He could make out the other man’s eyes from this close, still warm and comforting despite the distortion. Jack knew, somehow, that Ose was going to hit Bittle. He felt panic welling up inside of him; the only reason he had done something as stupid as allowing himself to be possessed was to protect Bittle, not to get him clocked in the face with what Jack knew would be considerable strength.

            As his shoulder tensed, fist cocking back, he put all of the force that he had into shoving Ose out. Pain seared through his brain like a lance as he resisted, knowing exactly where to put his energy. _The eyes are their door, push like you’re forcing your eyes out of their sockets._

            His body was moving, but it wasn’t Ose. Bittle was still in front of him, running backwards now to keep up as strong hands gripped his arms and shoulders, dragging him forwards. The sounds around him were frantic, shouts muffled by cotton. Jack began to feel himself slipping; he wouldn’t be able to sustain this level of resistance for long.

            He was outside, the cold air penetrating his senses weakly. As he moved forward down the driveway he felt Ose pulling back towards the house. Jack was shoved into the back of the van, shins slamming against the edge so hard a spike of agony penetrated the fog he was lost in. Bittle was there, pulling him further in as someone turned his body and pushed his legs. Then Bittle was looking down at him, and it took Jack a moment to realize his head was pillowed on the smaller man’s legs. A gentle hand brushed his hair from his face, and as the van rumbled to life and lurched forward Jack felt Ose slip away.

            The first thing he felt when he woke up was something cool on his throbbing forehead. His limbs felt heavy, like all of his blood and bones had been replaced by sand. He tried to pull his eyelids open, and groaned at the feeling of dry skin dragging over his eyes.

            “Jack, honey? You awake?” a soft voice whispered to his right.

_He sounds like honey_ Jack thought absurdly, marveling at how Bitty’s accent rolled over words.

            Jack meant to say something, but when he opened his mouth it he began to cough like he hadn’t drank anything in years. He heard Bitty whisper a quiet _oh, honey_ before there was a warm hand rubbing his chest. When he could breathe clearly again he felt a something press against his lips and looked up at Bitty in thanks as he pulled water through the straw, drinking until the glass was empty.

            “I’m not really sure what possession does to a person” Bitty said, setting the glass aside and running a hand down Jack’s arm “How do you feel?”

            Jack attempted to shrug, but didn’t manage more than a twitch. “Like I just had the flu for a month.” Bitty looked a mixture of pitying and devastated, and Jack quickly amended “It’ll go away in a day or so.”

            At that Bitty’s brow furrowed. “How do you know that? And why did Ose possess you? As the only medium I should have easily been the easiest to take over.”

            “You weren’t. The most penetrable, that is.” Jack said, attempting to get leverage to push himself up on his elbows. Bitty helped guide him and fluffed the pillows behind his back, leaving his hands on Jack’s shoulders once he was situated. Bitty was sitting on the bed facing him, his thigh pressed warmly against Jacks, their faces so close Jack could see the small flecks of gold in Bitty’s brown eyes.

            He steeled himself and tried to plan out what to say, his chest filled with nerves so that he thought it might burst open, and instead he spit out “I’ve been possessed before but I don’t want to talk about it.”

            Jack had said it all in one breath, so Bitty took a moment to parse out his words.

            “Okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to say anything you don’t want.” Bitty shifted his hands, rubbing up and down Jack’s biceps “I’m just.” Bitty paused and looked away, biting his lip “I’m so sorry” he said, voice breaking. Bitty sucked in a shaky breath “I wasn’t able to stop him”

            Jack shook his head vehemently, immediately regretting it when the dull ache in his temples intensified “It wasn’t your fault. I let him in, I was the one who didn’t have control.”

            “You weren’t the one running the séance! You weren’t supposed to be in control!” Bitty cried, looking back at Jack with tears glimmering in his eyes.

            Jack didn’t know how to rectify this. It _was_ his fault; he had chosen to take the risk of possession over risking Bitty. He grabbed Bitty’s hands in his own and took a moment to compose his words as the other man sniffled heartbreakingly.

            “I felt him coming in. I could have kept him out, but then I thought that it was me or you. If one of us was going to go through that I wanted it to be me.” He said, clearing his dry throat and adding “not that I didn’t think you could channel him properly! There’s just always a risk of being possessed and if one of us was going to risk it I wanted it to be me.”

            Bitty let out a sob and fell forward into Jack’s chest, gripping his shirt in both hands.

            “Oh, you stupid, self-sacrificing fool!” he sobbed, pressing his warm and tear stained face against Jack’s neck.

            Tentatively, Jack wrapped his arms around Bitty’s quaking shoulders. He still felt like hell, but his limbs were loosening up as he moved. Bitty was a warm, solid weight against him, and Jack found cradling him so enjoyable he could almost get past the wetness gathering on the collar of his T-shirt.

            Bitty pulled back after a moment and looked up at him, eyes wide and swimming. Jack didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if the other man was mad or grateful or both, so instead of trying to think out a logical response he pulled Bitty close again and kissed him.

            Bitty gasped into his mouth, and for a moment they looked into each other’s eyes as their lips locked, both fairly stunned, before Jack snapped his eyes shut to stop the awkwardness. It was good, then. Soft and easy and salty with tears, but good.

            “You guys are so dumb” Lardo said, sounding bored.

            Jack startled back and whipped his head around (painfully) to find her lounging in a chair in the corner with her laptop on her knees.

            “Now that you’re not laying there like you’re dead I can finally go sleep.” She said, closing her laptop and striding towards the door of what jack was beginning to realize was Bitty’s hotel room.

            She turned at the last minute and pointed a finger at Bitty “Don’t fuck him until he’s better” she said before shutting the door softly behind her.

            Bitty sputtered adorably, face tinting pink. Jack started to laugh, and after a moment they were both giggling against each other, Bitty pressed into his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world.

            When he finally got his breath back Jack pressed a hand to his temple and groaned, extremely grateful that the room was darkened by the drawn curtains.

            “Oh, honey, you need to lie down” Bitty said, getting off of him and pulling at his shoulders until he slowly levered himself to lay on his back.

            “Lie with me?” he whispered, his eyes closed.

            “Sure, sugar” Bitty whispered, voice feather light.

            The mattress tilted as Bitty laid down so that he was pressed against Jack’s side with his head pillowed pleasantly on his chest. Jack wrapped an arm around his narrow shoulders and sighed.

            They’d have to talk more, he knew, about several things. If they didn’t Lardo would make them anyway. But for now Jack was content to lie still and, for the first time in a long time, stop thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally the mushy stuff. Next chapter will be lots of explanation, so prepare for angst (and more mush)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how frequently this will update as school is about to start for me, but I'll try my best to be consistent! As always, any feedback is appreciated.


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